I Hate Being Alone - DerekMark
by Leo Strange
Summary: Set somewhere in season four this is basically just a Grey's Anatomy story where everybody is queer and the hospital is as hot of a mess as ever. Trigger Warning because this story contains a lot of talking about mental illness as well as suicide.
The sounds of Seattle Grace's hallways were almost a symphony between the ringing phones, beeping heart monitors, doctors fluttering about, and of course the rhythm of Mark's own footsteps. He could see the early sunrise peeking in through the windows of the rooms with open doors, so soon all of the main lights will be on rather than the slight bare minimum after lights out made only to keep the night staff from bumping into one another. Of course regularly he wouldn't be there at this hour, but fascinatingly there was something about this magic hour, before the hours of the main staff coming in, before Mark had nurses to impress, interns to harass. It was hours where he felt a time to see the insomniac patients, maybe take some time for an early run.

"Doctor Sloan,-" A nurse waved down, looking over her he was unsure if he'd seen something as bland looking as her, mid-forties, dirty blonde hair with those 1990's feathered bangs. She didn't call for any special attention, probably just a night staff waiting for 7AM to roll around so she can trudge out of there with a cup of coffee and hopefully go home in time to get her kids to school with a solid goodbye. "Doctor Sloan- if you have a minute, somebody locked the employee bathroom, do you have a key?"

Years of medical school, years of experience, and he was here to open a bathroom. Out of spite almost he nodded. "I'll get around to it." He stated, "Until then, say hello to a patient, use their bathroom and a chance to socialize. I'll be back soon." With that the man stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the cafeteria. He wasn't truly hungry, and it truly was an act of spite. In fact, even if he were paid extra he wouldn't eat the bottom scrapings of some scrambled eggs and some sort of overcooked oatmeal that seemed burned at the sides. Even the coffee he hated, still he accepted a cup and scanned the room full of half awake interns and the odd family who'd spent the night in the waiting room of the ER. One particular man caught his eye, bald wearing a pair of Rey Bans on his forehead and seeming generally too collected to be sitting in a hospital cafeteria at 5 in the morning. Of course as Sloan walked in for the kill a woman walked over with a plate of those awful scrambled eggs and sat besides the man kissing him on the cheek.

"Oh are you a doctor?" The woman asked as she tied her hair back in a messy bun, she looked a bit more tired than the man. "Doctor... Sloan, can you maybe tell us how our daughter is doing? We've been outside the ER all night but she won't let us come in and the nurses won't tell us-"

"I'm sorry, I don't work in the ER." He said in a bitter tone. Did he look like the messenger? Then again there weren't doctors everywhere at this hour. The woman and man both sighed and he rolled his eyes. "What's her name and I can check in for you."

"Andrea, she's in room 104." The man said, his voice weak, shaken.

"Of course I can." He offered, walking off in the direction of the emergency room. Walking to the door he picked up a chart, reading over it for a minute. "Andrea Taggart, hi I'm Doctor Mark Sloan, I just came in to check on you."

He never really expected carnage in these rooms, but just like all the other surgeons he secretly hoped for it. The girl laying uncomfortably in the bed, picking at the tape of her IV looked less than happy for see Mark. Her glassy eyes were nothing to the brightly reflecting shards of glass that stuck out of a couple spots in her matted black hair while trickles of blood dripped off the side of her head onto that disposable white sheet. "And?" She asked, not bothering to turn her head. "You aren't the doctor who came in for me before."

"Yes, well I'm a plastic surgeon and when I hear about a car accident I like to see the victim for myself but you... that looks like it'll clear up."

"When is Dr. Stevens coming back? It's been like hours and I have court at 11." The girl croaked, trying to pull herself up.

Izzy Stevens? Sloan was almost sure that he hadn't seen her yet, but she probably snoozed off in the on-call room. "I'll go find her for you so we can get you out of here." He said, immediately pivoting around and closing the door behind him. Pacing to the cafeteria quickly he told her parents that she would be out in time for court, they seemed relieved in the way that they still quietly and sadly looked at one another. It seemed suspiciously out of character for Izzy to be neglecting a patient like this and he wondered what possible emergency could have taken her from-

As if on queue he paused right in front of a supply closet door, hearing a whine from inside that made him ponder what he was going to open the door to. It wasn't uncommon for an intern within their first few days to be in there, messy, overtired, and sobbing. Many a time he'd found another doctor in there, someone who's chin that he could lift, placing his lips against theirs and eventually calming them down in the best way Mark Sloan could. Another sound and his hand was on the door knob, turning it and peering inside.

Doctor Stevens was pinned to the wall, her head thrown back as she wiggled around, panting and moaning. Her exposed skin was beaded with sweat but her head jerked foreword as the light from the hallway came in behind Mark's head. "Mark!" She shrieked, hand reaching down to the person- the girl- who was kneeling under her, pushing her off. "Get out!" The blonde screamed, grabbing on the ground for her scrubs as. Mark watched, his lips curling into a smile.

The girl pulled herself up, shoving foreword. Meredith Grey- of all the girls to be hooking up in the supply closet this early in the morning. Throwing her caramel curls over her shoulder she walked to the door and before Mark could say a word shut it. The man stood there in awe a few long seconds. He heard the rummaging in the room, the breathy whispers behind the door. He pivoted around and started walking back to the patient's room. He wasn't quite sure if he was going to explain that the doctor who was supposed to be looking after her was having lesbian sex with his best friend's love bug in the closet.

His best friend's love bug.

Shit.

It was way too early in the morning to be thinking about this. Even though they weren't together at the time all Derek seemed to do was mope over her, obsess. Ever since they'd broken up he'd been a hot mess but without her. Constant pacing, mumbling, even some crying, all over how to win Meredith back. Mark recalled a night where they'd been drinking... Derek seemed such a mess that even his well kept hair was unbrushed, unwashed, and the brain surgeon seemed closer to a rogue mountain man. He recalled the warm feeling in his cheeks as he met the shorter man's eyes, brushing black hair out of his face. That was when Derek had wrapped his arms around Sloan's neck, burying his head in the man's chest. It brought such a strong smile to his face, and it felt more home than any other moment of his life.

Meredith moving on would break him. Sloan knew that, Derek knew that, hell everybody had to have known it. He realized he'd been standing outside the girl's door for a while now, he nosed his way in to see the girl picking at some crusted blood. "Hey don't do that." He scolded. "You don't want a nasty scar forever. When you get all." He waved his hand. "That... taken care of, have Dr. Stevens call me to stitch you up good as new. I don't leave scars." He said.

Walking off again he remembered suddenly, the staff bathroom. It had to have been an hour, the nurses must have been ready to explode. He was barely out of the elevator when the same nurse from earlier stormed up to him. "I do not have a key to that bathroom, Sloan and something in there smells." She stated.

"It's locked from the inside but something smells?" Mark questioned. "Think that would imply that somebody's in there?"

"Then somebody's been in there since ass o'clock in the morning, when I came in." The nurse shrugged. "Open the damn door." She said, walking back to the nurse's station. Mark grunted, walking over and standing at the door. He was a bit curious about the alleged smell, and felt bad for whatever person had made it because they were going to be thoroughly embarrassed. He inhaled a smell that was familiar, too familiar. A strong iron scent that was not something one wanted to smell coming from a bathroom. Quickly Mark unlocked the door, swinging it open.

Next to the sink, slumped against the wall was the sight Mark feared. Blood seemed to be pooling on the floor, seeping into the cement between each tile. There was no rhyme or reason to the pooling aside from the factor of where it came from. A once white lab coat was stained crimson and stuck to the skin of his wrists. Mark took a step closer, careful not to slip. Derek, his best friend, slumped against the wall next to the sink, a scalpel sitting besides his right hand and his head down, pale and weak.

"Derek?" Mark finally got it to shout, now slipping to his best friend and kneeling down, placing his hand at the end of Derek's jawline to find his still weak pulse. "Jesus Christ, stay with me Derek, we're gonna get you help."


End file.
